


The Killing Moon

by Kattlupin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista!Remus, Bartender!Sirius, Blackmail, Coffee Shop, Coffee Shops, Crime, Dreams, Getting Together, Journals, London Crime Syndicate, M/M, Modern AU, Non-magical AU, Romance, Shady Business Dealings, Some violence tho but nothing crazy, Soulmates AU, Spiritual, Still Fluffy, Supernatural Elements, fireside fluff, psychic connection, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:35:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21876001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kattlupin/pseuds/Kattlupin
Summary: After a lifetime of dreaming of another mans life, Sirius finds himself in a race against time to find and save the man from the tragic fate that has befallen him in each of his previous lives.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 118
Kudos: 223
Collections: RS Fireside Tales Vol.2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: 
> 
> He has a box of things that are separate and strange  
> I think when he looks this way and that  
> That he is making a play for me  
> I think in so many ways he does it all for me  
> ― Dorothea Lasky, Rome: Poems

_“Sirius...help me.” The voice comes out barely above a whisper._

I rise with a sharp intake of breath, my eyes wide and sweat slicking my neck and brows. It’s happened again. The dream.

I reach and grab the leather-bound notebook on the bedside table, along with the pencil I keep beside it. Mornings like this, I’m grateful for my foresight to have placed them there after rereading the latest entry before falling asleep. I need to write it down while the dream is still fresh in my mind. While I can still see, smell, taste, hear and feel the details. Quickly, I jot down what I can remember. 

He knew my name this time, that’s new. I was kneeling beside his body, that’s not new. That part is almost always the same. He was on his belly, head turned at a near-impossible angle to look at me, one of his almost otherworldly amber eyes focused in my direction from behind a fluttering eyelid, the other was swollen shut. His voice was weak and his neck was reddened, hands had clearly been around it. This bit of information is also new. 

On the next page, the only remaining blank one, I sketch the scene. We’re in a flat, it’s not mine. It’s small, consisting of only one room and a bathroom that I can’t see, but know is there. Half of the walls are exposed brick and there’s a concrete support beam that runs between the area that separates the kitchen from the bedroom. There was a large bloodstain on that beam, likely from the back of his head hitting it. His prone body lying in front of the concrete is where I always find him.

I close my eyes, take a breath, and shut the now full book with a snap, making a mental note that I need to pick up another one today while I’m out. I should grab two this time, at the rate that I’m going through these. The frequency of the dreams has become intense, overwhelming me in their now nightly occurrence. I wish I knew what they meant. 

My eyes find the intricate black and gold gilded box on my dresser, it’s the size of a small trunk. A gift from my Uncle Alphard. At the time, I didn’t appreciate the gift for what it was. I was thirteen and far more preoccupied with the arrival of my acceptance letter to Etan. A family heirloom that represented a family I never quite fit properly with was not something that excited me. Going to boarding school and getting away from my family was far more enticing. 

However, like how it always was with Uncle Alphard, the box turned out to be very useful. It’s dark ebony wood and fine filigree of inlaid gold detail, along with an ornate lock and key made it perfect for hiding treasures. I pull the chain that hangs around my neck out from under my shirt and fiddle with the gold key that hangs from it. I’ve worn this key around my neck since the moment I placed the first completed journal of my dreams inside of the box. 

I’d previously hid the journal under my mattress, foolish in my youth to think that it was a proper hiding place. My younger brother Regulus had found it snooping one day. Intrigued by what he saw- my ramblings about dreams and strangely detailed sketches, all centered around a boy that I had never met, yet I could tell you in exact detail what he looked like. Amber eyes, rich golden curls, buttery skin with a dusting of caramel-colored freckles. He’s always been shorter than me, lithe and delicate appearing, yet I know from when I’ve touched him in my dreams that there is a firmness to him. 

The dreams themselves haven’t always been filled with details of his death. That’s only been occupying my dream space for the last few months. Mostly it’s been glimpses of his life. Flashes of a somewhat normal, if not a little bit lonely childhood. From what I can discern looking at old entries in my journal, I’ve narrowed down the Welsh Countryside as his place of origin. Though more recent dreams lead me to believe that he is here in London, likely in and around the Dalston neighborhood if the glimpses of a converted warehouse to an open loft living style flat are used as a clue.

Since the dreams began when I was five, we have always been the same age. Experiencing similar milestones at similar times, including our first kisses— his with a boy, mine reluctantly with a girl. I remember waking from the dream of his first kiss feeling envious of whomever it was on the other side of the lips that he was kissing. After all these years, I feel as though I’ve grown up with him, though I’ve never learned his name. I have longed to know it for ages. A longing that I’ve written repeatedly in the journals I’ve kept since the very first dream. It’s strange to think that ever since the age of five, I knew that the dreams were significant. 

The first entry was a crude drawing done in crayon in a child’s diary that my cousin Andromeda gave to me because she felt she was too old for such nonsense. A need to more accurately render the boy in my dreams is what drove me to learn to draw properly. When my brother showed the journal to my parents, asking them to explain to him the story inside, it’s needless to say that the heads of the Ancient and Noble House of Black were none too pleased to discover that the heir to their fortune, their primary hope of continuing the line of Patriarchal Nobility, was expressing signs of being a shirt lifter. A problem, as they saw it, that needed to be taken care of swiftly. 

The acceptance to Etan, with its promise of no longer living year-round at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, was most welcomed. The box, it turned out, was an even more precious gift. Serving from the moment I reclaimed the original journal back from the rubbish bin, as a place to hide them all. 

Opening the box, I insert the now full journal inside, tucking it into its place amongst the previous journals I have already completed. Seven journals, fully documenting twenty years’ worth of dreams of another boy’s life. I run my finger across each of the spines, all of them softened from years of rereading and scouring for clues as to who the boy, now man, of my dreams is. I lock the box and tuck the key back under my shirt. Though I know in my heart that he is real, I am also aware of how crazy this whole thing seems.


	2. Chapter 2

Throughout the day I can’t escape the sound of the man’s voice whispering my name in the dream. The way he said it, even under duress, rolled off of his tongue in a practiced and familiar way. 

My name, Sirius, isn’t necessarily complicated. It’s a word people use almost every day. But I have noticed throughout my life that the way someone says Sirius, is far different than how they say serious. When saying my name, the emphasis is on the S’s. Whoever he is, the way he said it in the dream, I can tell it wasn’t the first time that he had used it. We must know each other somehow, I just don’t believe that we have met yet. Or maybe he’s having the same kind of dreams about me. I wonder if I’m dying in his world. 

The thought of my own death breaks my mind from its spinning and stops me mid-stride. Where am I? I was supposed to be going to the bookstore to purchase a new journal for my dreams. I wanted to get it done before my shift at the bar tonight. My dreams of the man come most frequently when I’m at my most exhausted. A night spent slinging drinks to weekenders blowing off steam in the city is more than enough to wear me out to the point of vivid dreaming. Though I would much prefer those dreams to go back to being the more pleasant glimpses of his life that I used to get as opposed to the violent ones I am receiving now. 

I close my eyes and rub my face with my hands, then bring my hands to run through my hair, giving it a gentle tug. When I open my eyes I look around and try to get my bearings on my location again. I don’t recognize this street. How did I get here? 

Quickly, I turn around and try to spot any familiar landmarks that could help me pinpoint my location. There are no street signs, and for whatever reason, this area of the city is overly crowded right now. Which is strange, it doesn’t appear to be a trendy neighborhood. A flash of soft golden curls catches my eyes through the crowd. My heart rate speeds up, even as I feel it fall into my stomach. I’d know that hair anywhere. It’s him. 

I push my way through the crowd and try to reach him, but there are too many people around, constantly stepping in front of me. Just like in the dreams, he remains frustratingly out of my reach. His curls bob in and out of sight within the crowd, guiding me on, but never stopping. He effortlessly weaves through everybody, almost as if they are purposefully avoiding him, but I can’t imagine why. He’s all I have ever wanted to catch up to. I’m less than a meter behind, I reach to try and grab him, my fingers barely brush the fabric of his jacket when he turns down a narrow alleyway. I’m pushed to the side by a haughtily dressed man, his blonde hair flowing behind him in his haste to move through the streets. 

“Watch where you’re going.” He drawls, his lips curl up in a sneer as he looks down his nose at me. I know looks like this. I was raised in a house of people who constantly looked down their noses at others, including me.

“You watch it!” I bellow as I shoulder him out of my way. I turn down the alleyway, it’s empty. He’s gone. “Fuck!”

Standing in the empty alley, the noise from the busy street behind me ringing loudly in my ears, I stop and take a deep breath to steady myself. The smell of frankincense, nag champa and sandalwood overwhelm my senses. I begin to feel the ground beneath me spin. I focus my eyes on the closest thing to me, hoping it will stop the sensation of the Earth betraying my feet. It’s a sign. 

_Madam Cassandra Trewlawny_   
_Seer and Interpreter of Dreams_

I read it again. This is more than a business sign, it’s an actual SIGN, in the mystical sense. 

Even though I’ve been having these dreams for the majority of my life - and to me they are very real and more meaningful than just the average dream - I have always known better than to mention them to anyone. Especially after my brother showed my parents the original journal. Their reaction was the opposite of encouraging, let alone believing. That sentiment followed me to Etan, where I met my best friend, James Potter. 

On the first night of boarding school, I had one of my dreams. I remember it clearly. The man, boy at the time, a young teenager like me, was also prepping for his first day. He was talking with his mother, expressing his fears of starting a new school year, concerned it would be like the last, with the other children all making fun of him. I remember feeling deeply for the boy, I wanted to assure him that I would never make fun or harm him in any way. His mother tried to do the same, calling him her Cariad, her love, but it didn’t appear to be working. The dream then flashed to him at school, I assumed it was a glimpse of later that day. The children all called him cruel names, threw rocks at him and ostracized him more. I tried to stop them in the dream, thrashing about throwing punches that connected with no one. No one in the dream that is. 

James had been woken up by my yelling and thrashing about. He’d come to wake me up and took my right hook to his jaw instead. For most people, this would have been considered a bad first impression. For James Potter, it was the perfect event to base a year’s long friendship of mischief-making on. He used his first-hand knowledge of the power behind my right hook to threaten others who got in our way. 

But even with that as our introduction, when he asked what I was dreaming about, I lied and said it was just a random nightmare about being chased by werewolves. James shrugged his shoulders and began what would become the running joke of our years together in school- me being chased in my dreams by a furry little problem. 

And now it would seem that the living embodiment of that furry little problem has led me to the doorstep of a Seer, an Interpreter of Dreams. I open the door and step inside.

“Welcome,” a low and seductive voice greets me. It’s followed by the appearance of a woman of an indecipherable age. Her hair is light in color, an in-between of dusty blonde and grey, and her skin is smooth as silk, almost iridescent, like it's never seen the sun. She’s dressed in blue and bronze, a heavy wool robe draped over a dress made of the finest deep blue fabric I’ve ever seen. It flows like silk but has more weight to it. The blue hue is rich and reminds me of the sky at dusk, mere moments before it fades to black. She gestures for me to sit down. “I’ve been waiting for you.” 

The room is not set up like I would’ve expected, with a table in the middle and a chair on either side to sit on like I’ve seen in the movies. Instead, the room contains two plush leather chairs, soft and well worn, but expensive as they have remained in near perfect condition despite the lived-in feel of them. I sit at the one nearest where I’m standing, she sits in the other and directs my eyes towards the teapot on the table between us. A silent offering for a cup. I nod my head.

“What do you mean, you’ve been waiting for me?” 

“I’m a Seer, Mr. Black. I wouldn’t be a very good one if I didn’t see you coming.” She hands me a mug full of tea, it smells of cinnamon and cloves. The warm porcelain is soothing in my hands.

“I haven’t told you my name.”

“You didn’t need to tell me your name, Sirius. Like I said, I’ve been waiting for you.” She sips her tea, the steam from the mug slightly obscuring her from my vision.

“I don’t understand,” I say, because I don’t. I’ve never even been to this part of town before, much less this woman’s place of business. I know for sure that we have never crossed paths, there’s no reason for her to know my name or to have been expecting me. 

“So you can believe in the visions you see in your dreams, believe in the divine intervention of stumbling across my door while chasing the subject of your dreams, but it’s a reach for you to believe that I have been waiting for you? That I’ve known of your inevitable arrival for years Sirius Black?” She raises a skeptical eyebrow at me and takes another sip of her tea.

“Well, when you put it that way,” I concede, “It does all seem a bit ridiculous.”

“Your dreams aren’t ridiculous,” she says, her tone soft and reassuring. “There’s more to them than you even realize.”

“How so?”

“You and the man you are dreaming about are linked in this life.” She reaches across the table and places a hand on my knee. “Events are happening, things are in place and his life hangs in the balance. It’s up to you to correct the course of these events.”

“I don’t understand.”

“For whatever reason, call it fate, call it the destiny of the stars, but in this life, the two of you have been linked together.”

“Like soulmates?”

“In a sense, but also different. The man in your dreams has been bound to a tragic end for centuries. This is currently his fifth life, and the previous four have all ended in tragedy. He died at the hands of the same man in each of them. And the stars show that that man is moving towards him again. If you succeed, Sirius Black, the man in your dreams will live and you will have corrected the fate of his soul for his many lives to come.”

“And what about my fate? My soul?” 

“Your fate, your soul, has meandered through time, from one life to the next with little to no incident. However, in this life, you are meant for more than just wandering through the days. As your name suggests, you are a dog on a hunt in this life. And you already know what it is that you are searching for.”

“What happens if I fail?” I sip my tea to hide my nerves, afraid of what I already know will be the answer.

“If you fail, he dies, and his destiny stays the same for the coming lives as well.” She sits back in her chair, her hand leaving my knee and begins to drink her tea again. 

“And what about my destiny?”

“It’s hard to say. The connection between you two is strong in this life, it could carry over into the next. Though I’m wont to believe that the connection is more likely to remain if you succeed.”

“Why me?”

“Perhaps the fates are testing you. Tired of seeing you rest on your laurels throughout time. Or maybe, this is about him. Maybe his soul has manifested what it needs this time to survive. And you are the physical manifestation of that need. The last piece of the puzzle.”

“Does he know who I am?”

“Not that I have seen.”

“But he knows my name. He knew it in the dream last night.”

“Your dream was in the future. He will know who you are when that event takes place.”

“But in my dream he is dying!”

“And you will save him, Sirius Black. I’m almost sure of it.”

“You’re a Seer, shouldn’t you be more positive than almost sure?” I can’t help but hit her with a little cheek, the riddles she’s speaking are making my head spin.

She gives me a placating smile, lips a little too tight to be convincing. “As I have said, there are many parts at play here, and I can’t predict how all of them will play out. I can only see how you fit into the puzzle. And from what I can see, you succeed.”

“And what happens after I save his life? Do I just go back to my meandering?”

“No, you will be rewarded beyond your wildest imagination.”

“I have no need for money, or haven’t your stars shown you all of who I am?”

“I know all of who you are, and the sizable trust in your name. Even without what was supposed to be your inheritance, your uncle still secured your future. But the reward I refer to this time is something you could actually use more of.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?”

“Love.” Now the smile she gives me is genuine.

I take a heavy breath, she’s not wrong. Money and material things have never really meant much to me, but love, that is something I have always wanted more of. Having lived in a house where love was only doled out when you met the ever increasingly more difficult demands of my parents, it was something I received very little of. And even as an adult, having been solely dependent on myself since my disownment at sixteen, love has been near impossible to come by, even harder to hold onto, creating an existence that has largely been solitary and a bit empty. Yet I can’t deny that some of that difficulty has been caused by my fixation with the man in my dreams. Perhaps this link that we share is the answer to everything. I’m not meant to save just his life, but mine as well. 

“So how do I save him?” I ask, breaking my own thoughts of my need to be loved. Thoughts that if I spend too much time in, will cause me to spin wildly in my head through my own self-loathing. 

“First, you have to find him. After that, the dreams will tell you what you need to know.”

“And how am I supposed to find him? London is a city of almost nine million people.”

“You spotted him today.”

“Yes, after twenty years of dreaming of him, he couldn’t even turn to see me. Instead, he led me here, letting me chase him like a rabbit.” I throw my hands up in exasperation. “According to you and my dreams, I don’t have another twenty years to search for him.”

“Then I suggest you go buy another journal like you intended to today.”

Of course, the journal has managed to slip my mind. I check my watch, I have an hour before my shift starts. If I leave now, I should have just enough time to get to work. Hopefully, I’ll be able to find a bookstore along the way. 


	3. Chapter 3

Stepping back out into the world, everything feels softer than it had before I entered the Seer’s shop. The streets are no longer bustling with throngs of people and the sun has begun to lower in the sky. This little corner of London has gone quiet, and it feels deliberate, as if the chaos of earlier was designed to drop me at the Seer. Now the streets have cleared for me, giving me an easy pathway to get a new journal and hopefully make it to work on time. Though first, I need to figure out where I am. 

To the left is where I came from, to the right is where I’m sure the man from my dreams had gone. I’ll move in that direction, hopefully, whatever lies at the end of this alleyway is familiar. I’m still a bit surprised that I found a place in London I didn’t know. After all London has been my stomping ground my whole life, I hadn’t thought I left a corner unexplored.

At the end of the alley, I come out onto a main thoroughfare that I know well. I’m not far from my Islington flat and Marauders, the nightclub that I tend bar at, is just up the road. Seeing where I am now makes the entire experience of today even more unnerving. I must walk past this alleyway all the time. How have I never noticed it? It’s almost as if it opened up to me in not a parallel universe, but more of a diagonal one, where we intersect. 

Walking to work from here, I feel more steady on my feet. My world feels right again and no longer upside down. I know that there’s a cafe that sells books up the way that opened recently and I’ve been meaning to go in. Now seems like the perfect time to check it out. They’re likely to have a journal there for me to purchase and I could desperately use a sobering cup of coffee, even though I am yet to have a drink.

Hogsmeade Books & Bites is a quirky little corner shop, with wide windows framing the heavy mahogany wood door. The inside smells of parchment and rich chocolate more than tea or coffee. Everything is in hues of deep reds and vibrant golds. Chairs and tables of varying shapes and sizes, about half of which are occupied, take up the floor and the walls are lined with books, some to purchase and some to just enjoy inside. By the counter, is a small display of leather-bound journals, the exact ones that I have become accustomed to using. I grab one and hold it in both of my hands, running my thumbs over the smooth cover. 

Over the speakers, I hear the beginning notes of I Wanna Be Adored by the Stone Roses. A smile spreads across my lips and a familiar head of deep golden curls appears from the door behind the counter. 

“Can I help you?” He says, and it takes all of my strength not to sing along to the music and tell him I adore you.

“Yes,” I say and place the journal on the counter. “I’d also like to order a cup of whatever it is that I am smelling.” 

“My signature hot chocolate,” he says with the warmest smile I’ve ever seen. Warmer than it’s ever even been in my dreams. In-person, the only way to describe him is beautiful. And after years of dreaming of him, to have him this close, my instinct to protect and hold dear has officially been awakened. The Seer was right, there is no way I cannot succeed in saving him. 

“Yours?” I say, my tone is friendly, if not a bit flirtatious. “As in you own this place?”

“My father and I do,” he says, his cheeks flush a little and his eyes cast down. 

“I’m impressed.” I raise one of my eyebrows at him in approval.

“Don’t say that until you’ve tasted my hot chocolate,” he teases, raising one of his own eyebrows at me and walks behind the espresso bar. “Would you like this for here or to go?”

“For here,” I say, all thoughts of work and responsibilities forgotten. “If you can join me?”

He looks around the cafe, no one and nothing appears to need his immediate attention and he nods his head softly and says, “Okay.”

I watch him diligently work behind the barely broken in machine. The brass pieces are still gleaming in the light and their newness, having not been worn down by time and too frequent use yet. The red paint of the plastic pieces are still vibrant and barely have a fingerprint on them. My guess is that he takes the time and extra care to polish it nightly, emphasizing the pride he takes in the place. 

“Here you go,” he says, placing a deep crimson mug onto the counter. He’s managed to create a rosette within the foam on top of the beverage, making it look like a work of art. He’s holding a second mug reverently in his hands for himself. “Shall we sit?”

“Yes,” I say and follow him to a nearby set of chairs. He walks with confidence in this space, his head held high and shoulders relaxed. Just like in the dreams, he’s smaller than me but not by much. A few centimeters at most. His frame is much more slight though. A byproduct of his childhood, which I know from my dreams was less active than my own. I played football throughout my youth, and I know he spent a large part of his reading and alone. No wonder he grew to be an owner of such a cafe. 

“I didn’t catch your name,” he says when he takes his seat.

“Sirius Black,” I say, sitting in the chair and extending my hand in anticipation of finally getting to touch him and learning his name. For years I have longed to know the answer to both. “And you are?”

He takes my hand, and it’s warm and lovely. The bones delicate inside my fingers, but his grip is strong and sure. “Remus Lupin.”

I hold his hand for longer than is necessary and I don’t care. I look directly into his amber-colored eyes and I feel like a piece of me has just slotted directly into place. I can’t help but notice that he’s not quick to look or pull away from me. I get the impression that he’s thinking something deep of his own.

“Have we met before?” he asks, finally letting go of my hand. I immediately miss the contact.

“Outside of my dreams, I don’t think so.”

“Cheeky,” he says and takes a sip of his drink. 

I imitate him and take a drink of my own. The only way to describe it is heavenly. The chocolate is rich and thick, not overly sweet and just a bit spicy. It’s heated to perfection. I let out a contented sigh as the liquid slides down my throat. “Godric, that’s good.”

“Godric,” he laughs. “I’ve never heard that before.”

“Yeah, it’s like saying God, but minus the religious undertones.” 

“Interesting.” He looks at me over the rim of his mug, a look on his face like he wants to drink me, and I would let him. “Not one for religion than are you?”

“No,” I shake my head and laugh. “Most of my family were religious zealots. I didn’t quite fit in.”

“Didn’t approve of their son’s taste for other boys I would imagine,” he says, a bit of knowing in his voice. 

“How’d you know?” I ask, and I’m genuinely curious, though pleased he picked up on my level of interest.

“Hmm,” he hums and winks at me, “Can spot my own I guess.”

“Are you flirting with me, Remus Lupin?” I say, loving the way his name rolls off of my tongue.

“Depends. Is it working?”

“Yes,” I laugh and stare directly at him. “So, it wouldn’t be too forward if I asked to see you again?”

“I’d like that,” he says, holding my gaze.

“Good, because I had best be going.” I check my watch and quickly down the rest of my drink. “My shift started ten minutes ago.”

“I’d like to say that I was sorry that I kept you here. But the truth is, I’m not.”

“I’m not sorry about it either.” Standing, I extend my hand out and take his again. “I have tomorrow off. Will you be here?”

“I will, until closing at seven o’clock.” His thumb brushes over my knuckles.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, Remus Lupin.”

“Looking forward to it, Sirius Black.”

I release his hand with a final nod of my head and place two twenty pound notes onto the table. That should be more than enough to cover the journal and the hot chocolate, and leaving a few extra pounds for himself. I reluctantly turn away from him and walk towards the exit. I look over my shoulder at him one more time before I open the door and leave. He’s still seated at the chair, his right leg crossed over his left and his otherworldly amber gaze locked onto me. I take in a deep breath and commit the sight to memory. 


	4. Chapter 4

“Black, you’re late. Get your ass behind the bar!” My boss, Alastor Moody snarls at me when I arrive at Marauders. He’s a decent bloke as far as bar owners go, despite his insistence for constant vigilance. He’s not wrong, I’ve had to break up my fair share of fights here. Nightclubs aren’t always the fun happy places people make them out to be. 

Truth be told, though I’m only 25, I’m already burnt out of this life. Perhaps Remus and his father have the right idea, a cafe and bookstore seem like a much more peaceful existence. However, my dreams and the Seer tell me otherwise, now that I know he is indeed marked for death. I let out a heavy breath at the thought. I can’t fail him.

Everywhere I look tonight, it’s like I’m catching glimpses of Remus. Someone with golden curls will dance by my eye, but when I really look, the color will be too dull to be him. Or the lights will glow the perfect shade of amber and I’ll think he’s watching me from across the room, just to have them flash to the next color making his essence disappear. I’m distracted and it’s obvious. Alastor Moody keeps barking his reminder of constant vigilance at me from where he’s seated keeping an eye on things, emphasis on the eye. He only has one, but it’s sharper than both of mine on a good day.

“Gin and tonic, please,” a familiar voice says to me, breaking through the din.

The hair on the back of my neck stands up and I slowly take my gaze from the beer taps to the voice, steadying myself for the face I’m about to see. It’s a familiar face, not at all dissimilar from my own. We have the same grey eyes - though his are narrow instead of wide - and they sit atop the same cheekbones, but again, mine are full and his are slightly haunted. His hair is short and combed to perfection, where mine is long and artfully unruly, though the black color is the same. It’s not that I’m not happy to see my brother. It’s just that I have learned over the years since my emancipation from the Noble and Ancient House of Black, that these visits never proceed something good.

“Regulus,” I say, grabbing the bottle of Tanqueray from the well. “What brings you here tonight?”

“Family business. Can you take a break?”

“Not really,” I yell through the noise and gesture to the crowded room and the mass of people brushing up against him. I’m honestly shocked that he even pushed his way up to the bar through all of this. This isn’t exactly Regulus’s scene. He’s more apt to take up space at the local lounges like the rest of the stuffed shirts that we were raised around.

“Can you talk anyway?” He asks and actually looks earnest. Whatever he needs to say must be important.

“Yeah,” I say, handing him his drink - it will likely go untouched. He only ordered it to get my attention. “What’s going on?”

“Mum and Dad, they’ve been going through the family’s finances for the year.” 

“And what does that have to do with me?” I snap as I hand a pint to the bloke behind Regulus and take the next person’s order.

“They’re collecting old debts. Your name came up,” Regulus says and surprisingly takes a sip of his drink.

“I owe them nothing!” I snap again and angrily scoop ice into the martini shaker in my right hand.

“That’s not how they see it. They’re claiming that Alphard owed them a decent sum of money and now that he’s gone and he left everything he had to you, well it’s your debt.” Regulus takes a long pull of his drink.

“That was fucking years ago!” I slam the bottle of watered-down vodka back into the well.

“Black!” Moody scolds from across the bar.

I put my hands up and mouth sorry in his direction, his temper is already short with me for being almost thirty minutes late earlier.

“They’re still pissed about it,” Regulus says as if he didn’t just witness me being scolded.

“In the end, he didn’t have a ton of money.” I pour the contents of the martini shaker into a glass and hand it over to the customer. It’s another bloke, he winks at me when he takes the drink, leaving a few extra pounds behind. But I’m in no mood to flirt, and even if I was, I’d rather be flirting with Remus.

“Regardless, they’re looking to collect from everybody. That includes you.” 

“Do you know how much I supposedly owe?” I turn to the taps and start pouring three pints.

“Around twenty thousand pounds.” Regulus raises an elegant eyebrow at me. “I can give you the money, if you want.”

I furrow my brows in thought and hand over the pints. I have the money. Twenty thousand pounds will cut into my funds quite a bit, but it is doable. Everyone thinks that Alphard set me up for life, but if that were the case I wouldn’t be working in this bar right now. After his death was all said and done, and his actual debts were settled, I walked away with his Islington flat (which I live in) and about one hundred thousand pounds. It’s enough to keep me cushioned, but not enough to live off of for the rest of my life as most people assumed.

“No. I’ll pay it,” I say. Regulus’s offer is nice, but I have learned and this is a prime example of it, that money and family are often complicated. If I accept his offer, I’ll go back to feeling like I’m under their thumb. “What do I do? Give it to you? Do they even know you’re here?”

“Oh no, they have no idea that I’m here,” Regulus laughs and downs the rest of his drink. He hands me the glass and silently asks for another. “They’re sending out the wolfpack.”

“As in Fenrir Greyback?” The thought of the man makes me shiver. Of all of my parents’ associates, none are as vile as Greyback. He’s ruthless and cruel and a bit unhinged. Imagining him showing up at my door makes my stomach turn.

“Yes,” Regulus confirms. “Though it won’t be him who comes to collect from you. He’ll likely send one of his underlings.”

“Great,” I say and hand Regulus another drink.

“Rumor has it, Greyback is going after a much larger debt.”

I roll my eyes at Regulus. All of this is really quite ridiculous. The Black family vault runs deep and their many companies and other investments are sure to ensure that it never goes empty. This debt collecting is likely about something else. A show of power perhaps or a reminder to the lesser families that the Black’s are not to be toyed with. 

“So when can I be expecting this visit?” I ask as I pour six shots of whiskey and pass five of them across the bar to the group of girls flashing coy smiles at me. On most nights I’d find this funny and a nice boost to my ego, tonight it just looks sad. They each take their shot and I take the sixth one for myself, not even looking at them in thanks.

“Sometime this week, I would imagine,” Regulus says. “Don’t worry, they won’t be violent when they come the first time. Just don’t be a tosser when they show up.”

“You say that like you know me Regulus.” I pour myself another shot of whiskey.

“Don’t forget, Sirius, we’re brothers first and foremost.” He holds his glass up in my direction.

“Brothers first,” I say and clink my glass against his, then swallow my drink in one gulp. He does the same. 

“See you around, Sirius,” he says, placing the glass back on the bar. 

“See you around, Reg.” I watch him gracefully move through the space and out the door before I turn and take another drink order. 


	5. Chapter 5

_I’m running and from the burn in my lungs I can tell that I have been running for quite some time. Panicked thoughts of Remus are consuming me and forcing me to move on. My heart is racing and I can feel my eyes beginning to sting with the threat of frustrated and fearful tears. I’m going to fail. I’m going to be too late._

_A gold sign, illuminated brighter than anything else, stops me in my tracks. It’s the Seer’s sign. I’m back in the mysterious alleyway that I had never seen before. I look up to see if I can spot what is illuminating it. It’s the moon, full, large and almost brighter than the sun, shining down like a spotlight onto the Seer’s golden sign._

_I hear a scream coming from somewhere around the corner. I’ve never heard that scream but I know who it is._

_“Remus!”_

_I run towards the end of the alley, sure that I will see him around the corner. The street is empty and I hear the scream again. It’s coming from above me. I look up, a window and directly below it is a door, broken open. I push past it and run up the stairs._

_“Remus! I’m coming!”_

_The stairs are narrow and steep, I take them two at a time, a sense of urgency and need fueling me forward. I come to another door, also broken open and hanging off its hinges. I run right through it and the sight I see is pure horror._

_Remus is lying on the floor, spread out in front of the concrete beam, splatters of blood around him, and a man with his back turned toward me, looming threateningly over him. I run at the man and hit him with the full force of my body. He’s large and imposing and barely budges when I hit him. Instead, he growls in my direction, then hits me with the full force of his body, knocking me down._

I wake up as my body hits the floor and it takes me a few struggling breaths to realize that I have fallen out of my bed. I pull myself off the floor and get back in, sliding my legs under the covers and sitting my torso against the headboard. I turn on the light, grab the journal and pencil from my bedside table and begin to write down the details.

The man was there when I got there, this is new. I still don’t know what he looks like, just that he’s large and built like a brick wall. He must use his obvious strength to break through both of the doors. I felt that strength in the dream when he knocked me to the ground with a shove of his shoulder, and I cringe at the thought of how easy it must be for this man to overpower Remus. If only I hadn’t woken up when I hit the floor, I was so close to seeing his killers face. So close to finding out the identity of the man who has been responsible for Remus’s many deaths in the lives he’s already lived. 

The location of Remus’s apartment has been revealed, it’s around the corner from the Seer, on that unfamiliar street. I write that down, as well as draw a quick map as to how to get there from the main street that his cafe is on. I’ll need to build on this, figure out the quickest ways to get to his apartment. Perhaps, when the time comes, I’ll be able to beat his attacker there. 

I close my eyes and let out a sigh. If only the dreams would reveal the time and date of when this is supposed to happen. The Seer’s glowing sign flashes across the back of my closed eyelids. My eyes reopen rapidly and I grab the journal again. The moon, it’s full on the night in question. Full and bright and dominating the night sky. 

I jump out of bed again and hurry to the window, flinging the heavy curtains open, hoping to get a glimpse of the moon. I’m too late, the moon is gone and the sun is rising high in the sky. Biting at my lips, I run my hands through my hair. I’ll have to check on the status of the moon later. In the meantime, I have a date with Remus to prepare for. My body warms at the thought of seeing him again.

Thoughts of Remus are the only things that occupy my mind as I float through my day. Drinking my morning tea, thinking of Remus and how much I’d prefer to be drinking his hot chocolate. Flipping through my journals, looking for useful clues about him and making mental notes of things to ask him about. I want to know more about his childhood and what it was like to grow up in Wales. I want to know about his mother, she’s always been so caring in his dreams, the complete and polar opposite of what my mother was like. I want to know what brought him to London, what made him and his father open up the cafe and why his mother was not a part of it, or why she hasn’t been a fixture in my dreams of him in recent years. 

Thinking of Remus has been keeping me enraptured for the majority of the day. Finally, at five o’clock, I can’t take it any longer and I begin to walk to his cafe. I need to see him again. Not just because I want to make sure that he is safe, but because he’s beautiful and self-assured and everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner. It’s quite unfair that I’ve been given these glimpses of him for so long. What if I’m not his type? Am I wrong for using the information I have learned from my dreams as reconnaissance about him? Should I tell him about the dreams? Or is that something that will freak him out? Only tell him if you have to I decide as I push open the door to Hogsmeade Books & Bites. 

Just like yesterday, the cafe smells of rich dark chocolate and parchment, and there’s a handful of people seated in the chairs situated amongst the books. Remus is behind the espresso bar, and he looks up at my arrival, a pleasant and undeniably satisfied smile on his face.

“You’re early,” he says as I approach the counter.

“You’re lucky I didn’t arrive at opening.”

“You’d have been right distracting all day if you had.” His smile goes a little crooked as he says this and he very noticeably looks me up and down. 

I wink at him. I look good, I know I do. I’d purposely put on my best pair of perfectly worn and slightly torn black skinny jeans along with a simple fitted grey v-necked shirt. Both of which look perfect with my black leather boots and jacket. I’d hastily put my hair into a bit of a knot on the back of my head, it’s a good way to make myself look like I haven’t put too much thought into my look. Effortlessly handsome is my aesthetic, and even though I’m already besotted with Remus, I don’t want him to realize that yet by showing up in one of my best designer suits and perfectly styled hair. 

“What can I get for you?” He asks, wiping his hands onto a towel as he walks out from behind the espresso bar. 

“Besides you?” I flirt, looking him up and down as well. He looks just as casual as I’d seen him yesterday, as casual as I see him in my dreams, a look that works well for him. Dark blue denim rolled and cropped at the ankle, simple black and white Chuck Taylors and a tan jumper that’s slightly too large on him. His hair is perfectly tousled and I want to tangle my fingers through his curls. Instead, I place my hands into my pockets and order. “I’ll have a hot chocolate.”

“So it’s the hot chocolate that hooked you, not me?” He flirts back, his amber eyes flashing devilishly in my direction. 

“Oh, it’s definitely you,” I say with confidence because it‘s the truth. “The hot chocolate is just a bonus.”

Remus rapidly blushes and drops his gaze, his curls flopping over his forehead and shadowing his face from his eyebrows to the Cupid’s bow of his upper lip. He seems to take a breath, then looks back up at me. “One hot chocolate it is.”

“Better make that two. I insist you join me again.”

“Give me a minute then,” he says, raising his eyes to meet mine and nodding his head. 

I smile back at him, then take a seat at an empty pair of chairs. On the table in between is an elegantly covered book, _Dreams, a Window to Our Past, Present and Future._ My stomach drops when I pick it up and flip it open. A ribbon, attached to the binding, has been placed at the beginning of _Chapter Three - What Our Past Life Dreams Can Tell Us About Our Future_. The Seer’s words about him being in his fifth life shakes me to my core again. I begin flipping through the pages. Maybe he’s been dreaming as well. 

“Interesting, isn’t it?” Remus says, placing a mug of hot chocolate on the table beside me. The steam wafts through the air and washes over me with the intoxicating scent of rich dark chocolate and I catch a hint of chili powder in it. That must be what makes it so good. 

I take a sip and let the liquid calm me to my core before I respond. “Very interesting. Have you been reading this?”

“A little, doing some of my own research I guess.” Remus sits and his eyes look towards the open page of the book. I try to read his face, he looks nervous and he’s chewing on the inside of his cheek as if he’s trying to stop himself from speaking.

“I find dreams fascinating,” I say. It’s an attempt to get him to open up, though I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about my own dreams. I shut the book and place it back on the table.

“Do you dream often?”

“I do. Vividly.” There’s no use in pretending that I don’t. I let my lips quirk up at the corners and soften my eyes at him. “What about yourself? What has you researching dreams to tell you about the future?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” he pauses and takes a sip of his drink. “It’s all just silly anyway.”

“Is it though?” I ask, only because I know differently. I’d tell him so, but I’m so afraid of scaring him off, I decide it’s better to play this one closer to the chest. “They say that dreams are a window to our subconscious, maybe you’re trying to tell yourself something.”

“Hmmm…” he hums thoughtfully. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“So, what is it that your subconscious is trying to tell you?” I realize this is a forward question, but there is an unspoken ease between us, and I don’t think I’m the only one who feels it.

“Well, I’m not sure,” he says and takes another drink. His brows furrow together and his nose crinkles up a bit in thought. He crosses his right leg over his left and tilts his head to look at me, his amber eyes soft and a bit vulnerable when they make contact with mine. I get the impression he’s trying to read if he can trust me. I smile at him and give him a subtle nod of encouragement. “It’s all very strange really.”

“Strange in what way?” I ask.

“Strange in the sense that the dreams I’ve been having don’t really feel like dreams. They’re more like memories…” he pauses again and looks away from me. “Memories of a different life though. Does that sound crazy?”

“No,” I say with absolute surety. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

“I didn’t,” he says and takes a breath. “But these dreams have made me rethink that.”

“What exactly are the dreams about?” I ask, even though I’m pretty sure I already know the answer. 

“You’re going to think I’m crazy.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this to begin with.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I assure, I don’t want to push him.

“No, for some reason I want to.” He tilts his head again and fixes me with a gaze that I feel deep inside my chest. “There’s something about you that makes me want to reveal all of my secrets. It’s a bit alarming.”

I laugh softly at that. “I know what you mean.”

“So you feel it too then?”

“I do.” This earns me a genuine smile from him. He leans forward, bringing himself closer to me and I can’t resist the urge to touch him. I let my hand barely hover over his knee, he lifts his leg slightly and meets it. I press my palm into his thigh and he relaxes into the touch. 

“Like I said, it’s all a bit strange. I keep having the same dream, well the same similar dream,” he clarifies and places one of his hands on top of the one I have resting on his thigh. “It’s a bit morbid actually. I die in each of them.”

I flip my palm and lace our fingers together. “Do you have these every night?”

“Most nights, yes.” He runs his thumb over my knuckles.

“So you dream of your death regularly. That’s right terrifying!” I say because I know it is. Dreaming of Remus’s death almost every night is the worst thing that I have ever experienced. Worse than the rejection I received from my family. I squeeze his hand and he returns the gesture. 

“I do. At least my past deaths, I guess.”

“And how many have you had?”

“By my count, four. And they’re all awful.” He begins running his thumb across my knuckles again and I respond by squeezing his hand. “The even crazier thing is that I’m pretty sure that the same man has killed me in all of them.”

So he knows, I think as I let out a sigh. I can’t fail him. “Maybe this is the life where that doesn’t happen.”

“Let’s hope so,” he says meeting my eyes again. There’s hope within his gaze and I will do everything I can, not to let him down.

“Yes, let’s hope so,” I repeat and rise from my seat, using my hand still clasped with his to pull him to his feet. “I rather like you Remus Lupin, it would be a shame to lose you already.”

“Oh, you like me huh?” He teases and stands, his hand still firmly grasped in mine.

“Don’t you like me as well?” I stand a little taller and point my chin in his direction, one eyebrow raised and a wicked grin on my face.

“I like you too,” he says and leans a little closer in.

“Shall we get out of here?” I ask, wanting to make this a proper date.

“Sure, there’s a chips shop around the corner. Not far from my flat.”

“Great,” I say and we make our way out of the cafe.  
  
We walk hand and in, maintaining a pleasant conversation the whole way. He tells me about the cafe, how he and his father opened it after the death of his mother, using the bit of life insurance that she had as start-up capital. His father still lives in Wales and leaves the day to day operations of the cafe to Remus. I’m completely enamoured by him and his dedication. 

Over chips, I tell him about my family and instead of the, whoa is him attitude I usually get from others, he seems genuinely sorry to hear about the rejection that I faced. Maybe it’s from his own experience of being a bit of an outcast himself. Growing up gay in the Welsh Countryside has never seemed very easy, at least that’s what my dreams would tell me. 

Looking around, I start to take notice of familiar landmarks from my dream. We walk through the alleyway, and I give a glance into the Seer’s window as we pass by. The lights are out, she must be closed for the night. We turn the corner and the door to the building of Remus’s flat comes into view. 

“Well, this is me,” he says when we reach it. 

“Would you like to do this again sometime?” I ask. I reach and push a bit of stray hair out of his eyes, I let my hand rest on his shoulder.

“I’d like that,” he says. He angles his body a little more towards me.

“Good,” I say, bringing my other hand to his other shoulder and dropping my gaze level to his so I can see him more directly. He rises onto the balls of his feet, lifting himself that extra little bit that we need and I take it as an invitation to bring my lips to his.

The kiss is soft and languid. His lips delicate yet plump against mine. I bring my hands to cup his cheeks as I pull away, tilting his head to look directly up at me. I kiss his forehead, then dive in for one more press of our lips together.

“Goodnight, Remus Lupin,” I say, my lips hovering over his.

“Goodnight, Sirius Black.” 

I watch him enter his building, our eyes locked for as long as they can be. Once the door is shut behind him, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I look up and smile on the exhale. The moon hovers directly above me, and from the looks of it, it’s about five days away from being full.


	6. Chapter 6

An incessant pounding on the door wakes me from the first night of peaceful slumber I’ve had in weeks. It seems that kissing Remus Lupin is the best way to get the dreams of his death to stop. I’ll have to test this theory the next time I see him. 

I throw the covers off of me, slip out of bed and grab yesterday’s grey tee shirt off the floor, hastily throwing it on to cover my bare torso, not caring that it clashes with the slightly darker grey sweats that I fell asleep in. Whomever it is that is pounding on my door this morning is not going to get me at my absolute best, regardless of what it is that I am wearing. 

I wonder who it could be that is knocking on my door. No one besides James even knows where I live and he always gives me notice before he stops by. I’ve kept this place to myself, unwilling to ever invite anyone in. It’s been a sticking point in the few brief relationships that I have had. Apparently seeing where one lives is important to others. However, I do know that if anyone were to see this place, it would raise more questions than it would answer. Questions like how does a twenty-five year old afford such a flat? If he lives here, why is he working at that club? Has he been lying to me about who he is? None of which are questions that can be easily answered. 

Remus is the first person I have met since I inherited this flat that I’ve even considered inviting over. Last night over chips I’d given him my whole sordid story. A posh Islington flat is what he’d be expecting me to live in, and he’s already proven that my past standing as an heir of nobility means nothing to him. He was neither impressed nor disappointed with my name and what I could or should have been. Instead, he was steadfast in his assertion that who and what I came from does not in any way dictate who I am as a person. That it was okay for me to live in the in-between, to live as someone who still appreciates and has access to some of the finer things in life, but to also live on the fringe, as someone who knows what it means to be an outcast.

It’s a position that we both understand in our own way. I grew up to be the outcast of my family, he as an outcast of society, our fortunes and experiences reversed. My family rejected me for being who I was, but society and the connections that I had made welcomed me with open arms. Society rejected him, treated him as an abnormal for being who he was, but his family had embraced him, supported him and loved him fiercely despite his sexual proclivities. He’d confessed last night that it wasn’t until he moved to London that he ever really felt accepted by anyone outside of his father and dead mother.

“Open up in there!” A voice on the other side of the door yells, pulling me from my thoughts of Remus. Whoever it is, is pounding on my door as if he is the police, and I know that can’t be who it is. My days of illegal activity ended when my Uncle Alphard died and left me what I needed to survive. 

“I’m coming,” I yell back just as I reach the door and begin to undo the locks.

“Hurry up Sirius!” 

I pause in my unlatching of the locks. I know that voice, Igor Karkaroff, an associate of Fenrir Greyback. My conversation with Regulus from the other day rings through my head. He’s here to collect, or at least inform me that I have a debt that needs to be paid.

“Quit stalling Sirius, or I’ll break this fucking door down.”

I roll my eyes, I’d like to see him try. Igor Karkaroff is a formidable man, but he’s no Greyback, and this door is made of solid oak with a reinforced steel deadbolt. He’d need more than just his body to break it open. My mind quickly flashes to the sight of Remus’s door hanging off of its hinges from my dream and then a glimpse of the back of the man who had broken it open.

“Can I help you?” I say as I open the door, positioning myself in the opening and effectively preventing Igor from entering. 

“Let me in Sirius.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” I stand firm, one shoulder against the doorframe, the other positioned to keep the door wedged open just enough for me to block his way. “What is it that my dear mum and dad have sent you for?”

“Your beloved Uncle Alphard borrowed and didn’t return the money from the family trust before he passed. You inherited that debt when you weaseled your way into the rest of his belongings. And now that debt is due.”

“And how much is it that I supposedly owe?” I ask sounding bored and completely unbothered by his information.

“Twenty thousand pounds,” he says, a smug look on his face.

“Am I just supposed to hand a stack of banknotes to you then? Because unlike your employers, I don’t keep that kind of cash on hand.” I raise an eyebrow at him.

“You have four days, Sirius.”

“And if I don’t pay?”

“Then I’ll be back with a few extra hands to remind you of your families might.”

“Fine,” I tell him, then shut the door.

“I look forward to seeing you again, Sirius,” Igor laughs from the other side of the door. 

I roll my eyes again as I lock the door. Nothing he’s told me aside from the deadline to pay is news. I’ll have to go to the bank later to transfer my funds and maybe stop by the antique shop to see if they’d be interested in some of the antiques that I still have left from Alphard’s estate. They’re not really my taste anyway and it would be nice to get them out of the flat and make room for items that are more my style. 

After tea and breakfast, I run my errands. First to the antique dealer. If I can get them to purchase some of these items from me, it’ll be less of my money that I need to move around. Luckily they have had their eyes on a few of the larger items and a rather opulent painting that has been hanging in the study. They agree to take them off my hands for a total of eight thousand pounds to be handed to me when they pick them up tomorrow morning. 

The next stop, the jeweler. Alphard had been a lover of many fine things, and inside one of the many chests of drawers, one of which that is going to the antique dealers, is his old jewelry box. Outside of his watches, none of it holds any interest to me. I remove the watches and place them in a separate chest, then take the rest of the box with me, placing it into a bag that I sling over my shoulders. 

I hop onto my motorbike turn the key and the engine roars to life. A ride through London is always a good way for me to think things through. I do the mental math on what I owe. The eight thousand pounds that the antique dealer is giving me for the furniture and the painting is a giant load off my mind. Hopefully, I can fetch a decent price for the jewelry and if I have to sell a watch or two, I will. The less cash I need to remove from my account, the better. I know what I have is more than most, but if I ever want to make a change in my life, I’ll need all the help I can get. Having finally met Remus in the flesh, I feel like a change is soon to be in order.

Once at the jeweler and under their immaculate lighting and magnification tools, it becomes obvious that Alphard did indeed have expensive taste. As they’re sifting through the contents of the box a ring catches my eye. It’s a gold band with black and white pavé diamonds inlaid throughout. It’s simple when in comparison with the other more garish pieces that are spread out across the counter. It’s the only one that isn’t designed around a ridiculously sized stone of vibrant and brilliant color. For whatever reason, it makes me think of Remus. I grab it off the counter and slip it onto my smallest finger, the only one that it will fit on. I’m not sure what I will do with it, but the way it makes me think of Remus, warm in color, simple in its design and yet still strikingly beautiful, it’s worth holding onto.

“I can give you ten thousand pounds for the lot,” the jeweler says. 

I swallow thickly at the number and immediately extend my hand to confirm the deal. He hands me the cash and I secure it in my bag. Now it’s just off to the bank to retrieve the remaining two thousand pounds. With any luck, I should be able to pay the debt off with my parents tomorrow.

By the time I get home from work, I am beyond exhausted. After running around all day, securing and moving money from one place to the next, then working a full shift, I feel like I’m about to collapse. The only bright spot I had, was swinging by Hogsmeade Books & Bites to secure a date with Remus for tomorrow. He’s agreed to come over for dinner after he closes up shop and I’m excited that I finally feel like I’ve met someone that I can let in. That I can let fully see me and the world that I live in.

I lie in bed on my side, my top arm draped over a spare pillow, holding it close to my chest as I think of Remus and the possibilities for tomorrow. A bit of moonlight shining through a crack in the curtains glints off of a stone in the ring that I still have on my finger. I take a deep breath, close my eyes and whisper goodnight to Remus from my bed to his corner of London.

_“I’m coming Remus!” I yell taking the steep narrow steps two at a time up to his flat. I look and notice that there are no other doors around. This must be the only unit in this building._

_I push past the broken door to his flat and see him lying prone on the ground, his neck twisted, blood around him and the same large man from the night before grunting and kicking at him._

_“No!” I scream and launch myself at the man. He stops his movements and pushes me off with a swing of his hand. I hit the floor, the breath knocked out of me, tears pooling in my eyes._

_The man turns and looks at me, he sneers and growls my name, “Sirius Black.”_

My eyes shoot open and I suck in a huge breath as if I’ve been underwater for far too long. I know that voice. I know that face. It’s Fenrir Greyback. My heart sinks into my stomach and I go back to not being able to breathe.


	7. Chapter 7

Standing on the front steps of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place is only slightly less unnerving than waking in the middle of the night to the sight of Remus being assaulted in my dream. Comparatively, if what the dreams tell me is true, what he endures in one night is way more intense than anything I had ever experienced in this home, but that doesn’t change the fact that there are still years of trauma locked away behind these doors.

I take a deep steadying breath and ring the bell. While I wait for someone to answer, I arrange my face into an expression of indifference. I ran away from this home almost nine years ago. I’ve made amends with my past and accepted the things that have happened to me, but standing outside this door, I feel like a child, instead of a grown man carrying a stack of banknotes adding up to twenty thousand pounds. 

The door gently swings open and the face of my parents’ old butler Kristoff greets me. He was already old when I left, and time hasn’t done him any favors. His ears have gotten larger, his hair has gotten more sparse and he has shrunk or has hunched more forward, either way, he looks more like a creature than he did when I left home. 

“Master Sirius,” he drawls as he lets me in. “The ungrateful heir has returned home.”

“I’m not the heir anymore, or did you miss the message?” I say with more malice in my voice than I intended. Just walking through the threshold of this place is making my whole body tense up, unable to decide if it wants to fight, freeze or flee the area and return to the relative safety that I have ensured for myself away from it. “Just take me to Walburga or Orion.”

“Of course young Master,” Kristoff drawls again and begins to lead me through the foyer at a painfully slow pace and down the long hall to where I know my parents will be waiting in the library.

Even as a boy, before I was disowned, Kristoff and I couldn’t get along. He fawned over Regulus, but shunned me, though some of that I think was at my parents' encouragement. Once they started to catch on that perhaps I wasn’t exactly what they wanted in an heir, Kristoff’s treatment of me began to reflect that. It started as little things, like rudely waking me earlier than necessary or limiting my access to food, but eventually, even he got bolder with the name-calling. The crueler my parents got, the more he took liberties in the foulness that he extended towards me, only stopping short of hitting me. That was a privilege that he left to them and them alone. 

Kristoff opens the french doors to the library and announces me to my parents inside. “Master Sirius has arrived.”

I push past him and stand tall and firm before the open doors, keeping myself out of arm's reach of either of them. To my surprise, Regulus is here as well. He gives me a subtle raise of both of his eyebrows and his lips press a little tighter together, silently communicating his hello but also letting me know that he’s not going to be able to offer me much help in the family home. 

“Sirius,” Walburga says tightly. “Too what do we owe this pleasure?”

“Don’t play dumb,” I say to her and then look to my father. “I’ve brought the money that Alphard supposedly owed you.”

“Did you now?” He says, his chin jutted forward and his eyes narrowed in on me. At this moment, it strikes me how much Regulus has grown to look like him. Hopefully, the fact that Regulus warned me of what he had intended is proof that he at least hasn’t grown into a miniature version of our father. But only time will tell. “That was awfully quick for a bartender.”

“Perhaps we should look into Alpard’s borrowing habits more deeply?” My mother suggests.

I reach into my rucksack that I have slung over my shoulder and grab the stack of banknotes from inside. “Just take the money and go back to leaving me out of this family.”

“Well now Sirius, let’s have a reasonable discussion here,” my father says as Regulus walks over and takes the money out of my hands, subtly slipping a piece of paper into my palm as he does. I quickly act as if I’m checking something in my bag and drop it inside, not risking reading it until I’m out of this house for fear of getting Regulus caught in his gamble to reach out to me. Whatever is on that paper must be important. 

“There are no reasonable discussions to be had,” I say, watching Regulus place the money on the desk that my father is sitting at. “You gave up that right when you disowned me.”

“A consequence that you forced upon us,” my mother adds.

I resist correcting her with evidence of otherwise. I just want to leave this house unscathed, but the fact that they are requesting a discussion leads me back to my original assumption that this whole collecting debts thing is a ruse, a way for them to flex their muscle and I just happened to have gotten dragged along into it. 

“Yes Sirius, it’s long past time for you to stop playing the victim here,” my father says coldly. “You’re twenty-five now, working in a bar and living in your dead uncle’s flat. You’ve had your fun, now come be a proper member of this family again, we have plans for you and Regulus.”

“Fun?” I say. “You call being homeless for the years up until Alphard’s death fun?”

“Homeless,” my mother scoffs. “Boarding school and spending your summers at the godless family home of the Potters’ is hardly homeless.”

“Isn’t it?” I say. They have no idea of what the psychological ramifications of being rejected by your own family are. Sure, the Potters’ always kept a roof over my head and did their best to make me feel at home, but it wasn’t a substitute for the actual familial love that I needed. And once I graduated from Etan, going back to the Potters’ didn’t feel plausible anymore. 

“Regardless of what happened in the past, Sirius, we want you to be a part of this family again,” my father says.

“And what was this?” I say, gesturing towards the stack of money on my father's desk. “A twenty thousand pound buy-in?”

“No, of course not,” my father scoffs. “And I’d be willing to return this money to you if you agree to come back into the fold.”

“No,” I say firmly, turning to leave. “I don’t think I will.”

“Sirius,” my mother calls from the chaise that she is seated on. “Do reconsider. We even have a proper match arranged for you.”

“So this is what this is about,” I say, turning to face them again. “You need me to broker a deal with another family. What is it? Another company you wish to acquire?”

“We would never use you in such a way,” my mother tries to assure.

“Bollocks. It’s exactly something you would do. And in case you forgot, I have no interest in anyone you may be trying to set me up with.”

“She’s a lovely girl. Pretty little thing,” my father says as if that fact will change my mind.

“May I remind you, that lovely, pretty girls are not what I am into. Or did you forget what it was that you cast me out of this family for in the first place.”

“We were hoping that you may have changed your ways, or would be willing to with the promise of a secure future,” my mother says.

“You’re taking the piss,” I say and chance a look at my brother, he almost imperceptibly shakes his head no. 

“What a horrid expression,” my mother says. “We just want you to be apart of this family again.”

“Tough shit,” I say. “I’d never rejoin this family, especially not at the price that you’re asking. Consider that twenty thousand pounds on the desk over there my final payment to be rid of you.” I turn and make my way out of their home, ignoring my mother’s calling of my name and my father casually telling her to let me leave. 

Once out the door, I open my rucksack and fish out Regulus’s note. 

_Do not trust them. I’ll be by your place later._

Great, I think to myself. I already knew not to trust them. I haven’t trusted them since I was a small child. As much as I want to find out what it is that Regulus needs to tell me, I’m expecting Remus at my place later tonight. I was planning on cooking us dinner, I guess I’ll just have to order some takeaway instead. And perhaps Regulus will have some answers for me as to why Greyback is after Remus.

Regulus isn’t too far behind me on getting to my place. He must have left shortly after I did, managing to knock on my door less than ten minutes after I walked in.

“Come on in,” I greet him and usher him inside. “Can I get you some tea?”

“Please,” he says. “Though you might want to slip something stronger in there.”

“That bad, huh?” I ask as I put the kettle on and portion out the tea leaves.

“It’s not great,” he says and sighs.

“Let’s get it over with. What do you got?”

“They weren’t lying, they do want you to fulfill a marriage pact that they made with the Parkinsons’. That much is true and it’s why they concocted this whole scheme with Alphard’s debt.”

“So Alphard didn’t really owe them any money?”

“He might have. But do you think they actually care about a measly twenty thousand pounds?” He quirks an eyebrow at me and the kettle begins to whistle. “That number was large enough to manipulate you with but not large enough to actually matter to them.”

I shake my head as I pour the water over the leaves. “Well, I meant what I said, I’m not coming back.”

“And you shouldn’t. But there’s more.”

I hand him his tea and sit at the table across from him. “What is it?”

“I told you they sent out the whole wolfpack.” He takes a sip of his tea. “Greyback spotted you with his mark.”

“What?!” I almost choke on the question.

“Whoever it is you’re seeing these days is apparently the son of a man who owes mom and dad a lot of money. You sure do know how to pick them, Sirius,” Regulus says, giving a sympathetic smile. 

“Do you know how much he owes? Or why his father borrowed the money?” I try to steady myself with a sip of my tea.

“I’m not sure of the exact amount. But the father works for dad in one of his factories in Wales. Apparently, his wife fell ill a few years back and the man naively took dad up on an offer for help.”

“They’re just as heartless as ever I see.” I run one of my hands through my hair, pulling the band out and letting it all hang loose. “So what does this have to do with Remus?”

“You can cut a man deeper when you know where it’s going to hurt the most,” Regulus says, repeating the words that my mother and father have always seemed to live by, but when he says them, it’s with disgust instead of reverence. 

“Is there anything I can do to stop it?” 

“I don’t think so.” Regulus reaches across the table and places his hand atop mine. “I’m sorry, Sirius. If I hear more, I’ll tell you.” 


	8. Chapter 8

I barely have time to clean up my flat and move things around so that it doesn’t look like I just sold half of the furniture that had previously filled the space. The flat looks sparse, and aside from the clothes, the unmade bed and the records that are strewn about, it would be hard to believe that anybody lives here. I’m not expecting to impress Remus with this flat, he already knows the story behind how I came to own it, but it would be nice if it didn’t look like an irresponsible and immature twenty-five year old lives here. I run around and quickly pick the clothes up off the floor, change the sheets and make my bed look presentable. I dig through Alphard’s old linens for a throw to toss over the sofa, attempting to make it look like I actually use it instead of spending most of the time that I’m here lying in bed. 

I clean the dishes in the kitchen and give everything a quick wipe down, then light and place a candle onto the dining room table that instantly fills the area with the soft aromatic scent of sandalwood and cloves. A quick sniff transports my mind to the Seer and her words, “If you fail, he dies, and his destiny stays the same for his coming lives as well.” I will not fail him, I try to assure myself and the Seer in my mind.

Remus is knocking on the door just as I finish placing the cartons of Thai takeaway, a few plates and some chopsticks on the table. I glance at the room, it looks fine enough, even with the table and chairs the only pieces of furniture left in the room. I’ll need to, at the very least, fill the walls with some art at some point soon to make the place feel less empty. 

My heart and thoughts are practically racing as I open the door, but as soon as I see Remus, it’s as if time has suddenly decided to stand still. He’s breathtaking on the stoop, illuminated by the streetlights and the nearly full moon hanging above him in the sky. Seeing the moon, the urgency of the situation at hand is brought back to the forefront of my mind. I can’t fail him. To let someone like Greyback take him away from this world again, it’s the most tragic end imaginable.

“Hello, Remus,” I say as I gesture him inside. 

He takes the final step through the door and pauses, a shy smile on his face, he rises on the balls of his feet and places the softest of kisses onto my lips. “Hello, Sirius.”

I close the door behind him, a serene smile spreading across my lips while I watch him remove his dark cream colored pea coat and red and gold striped scarf. He’s just so beautiful. I extend my hand and grab the garments from him, then place them into the near-empty coat closet where it can share space with my black leather jacket for the evening. The sight of the two coats together makes my insides warm and suddenly, this sparse flat is beginning to feel like a home.

“Did you have any trouble finding the place?” I ask.

“No,” he says, the shy smile becoming more confident as he turns from taking my place in to look at me. “Though I have to admit, I haven’t spent much time in Islington. It’s quite lovely here. Much quieter than what I’m used to.”

“Can’t be much quieter than Wales,” I tease and lead him to the dining room.

“Well no,” he says and lets out a laugh, the sound of it reverberates throughout the space, making the flat feel warmer. “But compared to my flat, it’s quite peaceful.”

I want to say that he should stay and never leave here. In my dreams, he’s always dying at his place. But that suggestion would be way too forward. Instead, I say, “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Sure. I’ll have whatever you’re having,” he says and takes a seat at the table.

I step into the kitchen, but keep him in my eye line, not wanting to lose sight of him for even a second and pour us two glasses of whiskey on the rocks. It’s not necessarily the most complimentary drink to Thai food, but it’s all I have aside from a few cheap beers in the icebox. I grab us each a glass of water as well, then head back into the dining room. He carefully grabs a whiskey and a water out of my hands and I sit down into the seat across from him.

“Is this okay?” I ask.

“It’s more than okay. Though I believe you promised to make me dinner.”

“I guess I’ll just have to do that another night then,” I suggest, internally grateful for the excuse for another date. 

Over our meal, we talk about our days. I tell him the abbreviated version of mine, that I sold some furniture and had to stop by and see my parents. He asks if that’s why the flat is so sparse, but there’s no judgment there, and I confirm that that is indeed why. He expresses the correct amount of concern at the news that I went to see my family, sympathetic but not pitying, clearly remembering that I have been fine without them for ages now.

He tells me about the cafe, about a shipment of new books that he’s been particularly excited about and that a strange man larger and burlier than any he’d ever seen, had come in today. Instantly my mind flashes to the image of Greyback grunting over him from my dream and I feel the color drain from my face.

“Sirius, are you alright?” Remus asks me, his voice quiet and soft. 

“Just fine,” I quickly say while trying to hide behind my drink. I knock back what remains of my whiskey, hoping that the alcohol returns some color to my cheeks.

“Are you sure? You’re looking a bit peaky.” He lifts himself slightly from his chair, reaches across the table and gently runs his knuckles over my cheek.

I close my eyes and let myself lean into his touch. “I’m alright. It’s just been a bit of a long day.”

“Hmm…” he hums low and long, uncurling his fingers and caressing my cheek, jaw, and chin with his hand. “How about you show me the rest of the place.”

I nod my head and we stand together, his hand reluctantly leaving my face so that he can meet me on my side of the table. Once he’s standing beside me, I feel an irrepressible need to hold him and I pull him into my chest, my arms crisscrossing with his to wrap around his back. I breathe him in and it feels like the best breath I’ve ever taken. He smells like books and paper and rich chocolate and everything warm. And it’s Remus, not the whiskey that brings the color back into my cheeks. 

He nuzzles his face into my neck placing a feather-light kiss onto my pulse point, almost as if he knows that it is him that has reminded my heart to beat and flow blood back through my body. I loosen my grip on him and bring my lips to his forehead, then his nose and finally onto his lips again. He sighs softly against them, then lets his lips part enough for me to run my tongue on the underside of his top lip before I gently press it between mine. He parts his lips a little further and sucks ever so slightly on my bottom lip, making it fuller than it already is. I nip at him playfully as I pull away. He smiles against my lips and I kiss them again, sighing at the ease at which we seem to move together. 

When we break apart, I begin to lead him through the rest of the flat, starting first with the living room. He takes it all in. His eyes seeing everything first and then his hands moving gracefully to touch the mantle, the sofa, the high backed reading chair, deliberate in his movements and touches. I want to feel those hands on me again. Feel them caress me in places other than my hands and face. 

He seems to hear my thoughts, coming closer to me and placing a hand onto my shoulder, then running it down my arm until it stops at my wrist. He looks down at our fingers together and his face softens into an easy smile, his eyes focusing on the ring that I’m still wearing on my smallest finger, the one that reminded me of him. 

“This is beautiful,” he says, picking up my hand and bringing the ring closer to his view. He looks it over, turning my hand around in his to see the ring from all angles. “Have you always worn this?”

“No,” I say, resisting the urge to tell him that I wear it because it reminds me of him. Instead, I tell a half-truth. “I found it amongst my uncles’ things.”

“Hmm…” he hums thoughtfully and lifts his gaze to look at me. “It’s nice. It suits you.”

“It would suit you more,” I say, the words passing through my lips before I can stop them.

He huffs a laugh and his cheeks bloom scarlet. “A little early for that, don’t you think?” But there’s no conviction behind the way he says it. 

I don’t respond, I just smile at him and he lifts on the balls of his feet again, kissing me sweetly on the lips. I wish I could just freeze him at this moment, keep him safe and never let him go.

He squeezes my hand. “Let’s see the rest of the place.”

I take him to the study, a room I hardly step into and he’s mesmerized by the old books that line the walls, remnants of my uncle’s collection, most of which have remained untouched since his passing. He picks up a few and mentions how many of these would probably fetch a fair price with collectors. I funnel that information away, perhaps I can sell them to save his life. I’d sell everything that’s left of my uncle’s life for Remus.

“You know a lot about books,” I say, taking in the sight of him running his index finger along some of the older bindings. “Did your father teach you these things?”

“Oh no,” he says, not looking away from the books, but dropping to his knees to examine the lower shelves. “My mother, she was the book lover. She’s what the cafe is about. It was always her dream.”

“Really?” I ask, genuinely curious. 

“Mmhm,” he hums and rises from the ground, moving to another shelf. “She loved books, claimed they were magic. We would read together every day while I was growing up. She’d make hot chocolate, just like I serve at the cafe and we would sit and read or talk for hours on end. She’d talked about opening a cafe from as far back as I can remember. After she died, it was my father who suggested we open Hogsmeade Books & Bites in her honor. And everything just seemed to come together from there...” Remus pauses and looks over towards me, his eyes slightly glistening and a sad smile on his face. “My father called to tell me he got a life insurance check in the mail, and we put all of it towards the cafe. Opened on her birthday, fates way of telling us it was meant to be.”

I walk over to him and hold his face between my hands, making it just in time to use the pads of my thumbs to brush away the slight bit of wetness that has crept out of his eyes. He looks at me in appreciation, not an ounce of self-consciousness in him. 

“She meant a lot to you,” I say, a flash of her in my dreams, comforting him as a child after a particularly hard day. My heart aches in so many ways for him.

“She did,” he says, closing his eyes and taking a breath.

I bring our lips together and kiss him soundly. The kiss is firm and full of years worth of longing to know him, to soothe him, to be a part of him. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for this man.

After the study, all that’s left to show him is the bedroom. He steps in a bit hesitantly and I assure him that it’s okay. Almost immediately his eyes find the black and gold box that I keep the journals chronicling his life in. He steps over to it and with the same reverence that he touched the books with, he feels the box, letting his fingers glide over the filigreed patterns and designs. 

“It’s a lot like your ring,” he says and for the first time, I make the connection. Both are black, white and gold. Both hold a connection to my feelings for Remus. I look at him again, seeing him almost a little more clearly. The same black, white and gold that make up the box and the ring, make up his eyes. Creating a contrast of light and dark, ultimately culminating into a collection of warmth, that heats me from the inside. Basking me in warmth, when so much of my existence has been cold. 

“What’s inside?” he asks, trying to lift the locked lid.

“Nothing special,” I lie, afraid that the truth will scare him away. Scare him out of the safety of being with me. 

“Hmmm…” he hums again, taking me at my word. I resolve at that moment to tell him the truth once I’ve succeeded in saving his life and all of this is over.

I walk over to him, wishing not just to pull him from the box, but to also place him in my arms. He willingly steps into my grasp and meets my lips when they angle down towards his. 

Whether it’s because we are in my bedroom, or because fate has been slowly leading us to this point, our kiss and hands pull at each other with urgency, hastily dropping us onto the bed. He’s sure in the way his hands move, inching me closer to him and inviting me in. My hands move to touch every part of him, anxious to feel his warm skin against my palms. He shucks his shirt, making it easier for me and urges mine off of my body as well. I lose myself in every kiss, caress and nudge of our bodies together, an all-consuming need to be as close to Remus as possible takes over my movements. 

Unsurprisingly, it turns out that making love to Remus is better than anything I could ever imagine in my wildest dreams. 


	9. Chapter 9

_The moonlight shining off the Seer’s sign catches my eye as I round the corner to head down the alley, running at full speed to turn the next corner to get to Remus’s flat. My heart is beating out of my chest, my throat is constricting as my lungs try to rapidly breathe in more air. There’s a stitch in my side, I’ve been running for such a long time._

_I turn the final corner that leads to Remus’s flat and I run right into another solid form that feels like a wall. When I step back to get a look at what it is that just blocked my way to Remus, I’m horrified to see that it is Greyback, laughing at me._

_“You’re too late, Sirius,” he taunts, his lips curl into a blood-curdling grimace._

_I sidestep to run around him, uselessly pushing past him as I go and yelling as my legs carry me forward again. “Remus!!!”_

_“You can’t save him now. Not after what I’ve done to him,” Greyback yells from behind me, laughing maliciously at my running form._

_I take the narrow and steep steps two at a time, wishing I could take them all in one leap. I reach the broken door and burst through it, dropping to my knees at Remus’s side. I pull his body against mine. He’s bleeding from so many different places, bruised purple and limp._

_He takes a rattling breath against my neck and I can just barely make out the sound of his voice pleading, “Sirius...help me.”_

_“Remus,” I cry again, cradling him against my chest, listening as he takes another, weaker, rattling breath. I kiss his hair, the curls soft against my lips._

_“Sirius…” his voice calls, but it’s not coming from the body in my arms. “Sirius…” his voice is ringing from somewhere beyond. “Sirius!”_

“Wake up, Sirius.”

Startled, my eyes open wide, my surroundings blurry and I desperately search for something to focus on. I feel a soft hand smooth across my forehead, pushing some of my hair away from my face and out of my eyes. A flash of gold catches my view and I can finally focus again. Remus, alive and in my bed, looking down at me with an expression of shock and concern on his face. 

I reach up and run my fingers through his hair. When my hand reaches the nape of his neck, I pull him down to me and place a kiss on his forehead, my other arm finds his waist and I hold him closer to my body. He’s alive and in the perfect condition he was in when we fell asleep a few hours ago. 

He adjusts himself to look me in the eyes. “Are you okay?”

“It was just a dream,” I say and kiss his lips then forehead again. “Just a dream.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m alright,” I say, closing my eyes against the sting of tears that are beginning to well up in them. With my eyes closed, I find his lips again then move to adjust us, keeping him in my arms to lie on our sides. I hold him almost impossibly close, his back pressed against my chest, his bum pressed against my hips, our legs intertwined together.

I want to tell him that I love him, but I know that’s entirely too soon. Instead, I place three gentle kisses onto the base of his neck, one for each word I would like to say. He grabs my left hand, the one that is draped over the top of him and brings it to his lips, returning my gesture with three equally gentle kisses right below the ring that reminds me of him, the one I said would suit him better. Whether his gesture meant the same as mine remains to be seen, but something deep in my soul, assures me that it did and I slip back into a peaceful sleep with the man of my dreams held securely in my arms. 

Not just the image, but the feel of Remus dying in my arms has stuck with me all day. Waking this morning and beginning our days, I took every opportunity to hold him against me again, relishing in the feel of him being alive and holding me back. He probably thinks I’m a complete nutter for how clingy I was being. It’s not my usual nature, but now that I have met him, kissed him, made love to him, having him dying and being ripped away from me in such a way, even in a dream, is too much for me to take. 

The fear of losing him has led me to the front door of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place for the second time in two days. Standing here again, drawing my shoulders back and mustering my full courage despite how desperate I’m feeling. I use the images of Remus in my mind to push me forward, to raise my hand and knock on the door.

“Master Sirius,” Kristoff greets, still drawling as if bored, still sneering as if he knows something I do not. He probably does. “The disgraced heir has returned.” 

“Just take me to Walburga and Orion,” I say, pushing past him to get inside, eager to make this quick.

“Yes sir, Master Sirius,” he says without an ounce of respect in his tone. 

I don’t actually need him to take me anywhere, I know exactly where my mother and father are. They are in the library as they always are during this time of day, feigning importance and deciding on new ways to make others feel less than them. It’s a skill they have perfected over the years.

“Master Sirius has arrived again,” Kristoff announces then ushers me in.

“Excellent,” my father says, looking up from the ledger on his desk. My mother is half reclined on her usual chaise, a stack of letters on the table beside her. “Have you rethought our proposal from yesterday?”

“No,” I say firmly, standing tall, an air of defiance radiating off of me. “I’ve come to inquire about another debt.”

“Ahhh, yes. Greyback did tell me what a coincidence it was that you happen to be dating his latest mark. How unfortunate,” my father says, though by the tone of his voice I know how not unfortunate he finds it. If anything, he took this news from Greyback and filed it away for future use against me. 

However, he forgets that I know him well and I fully expect him to use my budding relationship with Remus to his advantage. “Cut the act dad, I know you don’t care. How much does his father owe you?”

“Far more than you can afford.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” I say, my mind quickly tallying the potential price for the books, Alphard’s remaining antiques, the watches and what’s left in my bank account. I’ll get rid of it all if it means I can keep Remus.

“Lyall Lupin’s debt was originally fifty thousand pounds, but given the trouble we have had in getting him to pay us back and the fact that he chose to open that ridiculous cafe instead of returning the debt, well it has been doubled to one hundred thousand.” 

“You can’t do that!” I yell out of anger.

“Indeed I can, Sirius.” He raises a challenging eyebrow at me. “Now, I would be willing to knock the debt back down to the original fifty thousand pounds, and I’ll even use the twenty that you gave me yesterday towards their debt, if you do your duty and marry the Parkinson girl.”

My stomach drops. I can come up with thirty thousand pounds easily and Remus would be none the wiser. The debt would be paid, and unless his father told him, he’d never even find out the truth of what has happened or where his father got the money to open the cafe. If I do this, then I lose Remus forever, albeit, he does get to live this way. But I will have paid for his life with more than money but my freedom as well. 

“And if I don’t agree to marry the Parkinson girl?”

“Then the debt stands, and Greyback gets to have his fun and I get my one hundred thousand pounds in some way shape or form.” He sits back in his chair and steeples his hands together, silently challenging me to say no.

“Give me two days,” I say, knowing that the full moon is the day after tomorrow. If I hurry, I can get everything together. I have the money in my account, it’ll break me, but Remus is worth it.

“Two days to what, Sirius? Pay the debt or agree to marry the girl?”

“Pay the debt,” I say and storm out of the library.


	10. Chapter 10

I’ve always known that my mother and father could be ruthless, each specializing in their own brand of cruelty. The fact that my father has doubled Lyall Lupin’s debt, shouldn’t be that big of a surprise to me. I’m more concerned about why. After talking with him, and though he claims it’s because Lyall Lupin opened the cafe instead of paying him back, I can’t shake the feeling that the real reason that he doubled the debt was to get back at me. That’s a trick that is more on par with his usual behavior. Orion Black is a master at manipulation, especially when he can use money to pull the strings. 

However, I do have my own trick up my sleeve. Though it’s less a trick, and more of a different view of the world. Had I not left at sixteen and been forced to find my own way, I might be more susceptible to his manipulation. As it stands, I’m already familiar with what it means to live without, and I’m willing to give up all that I have for Remus. 

Walking around my flat with the antique dealer again, I can’t help but smile at the symbolism. Alphard, whom I barely knew, as he’d also been largely cast out of the family for the same reason as me, had left everything he’d pieced together over the years to me. And now, I’m using those means to rescue yet another. 

“All of it?” the antique dealer asks, his hand running along the hidden seams of a curio cabinet that houses Alphard’s antique china.

“Yes,” I say, eyes wide and nervously chewing on my thumbnail as he continues to look the furniture over. I know what this must look like too him. A quote-un-quote rich kid, selling off a flats worth of belongings. He probably thinks I’m some sort of junkie. “There’s a complete set of solid silverware in the drawer as well.”

The antique dealer raises an eyebrow at me and opens the drawer, he pulls back the felt cloth covering that protects the pieces from dust and works as a polisher, his eyes narrow as he picks up a fork and turns it over in his hand. No doubt he’s looking for the marks of the manufacturer. “These are fine pieces.”

“Will you take them?”

“Yes, and the china, as well as the remaining pieces of furniture.”

“Good, how much?”

“For all of this, I can give you forty thousand.”

The price is low and he can tell I’m desperate. I decide to counter, “Fifty-five thousand.” 

“Forty-five,” he says, his lips pursed in a knowing smirk.

“Fifty.”

“I’ll give you fifty if I can have the bed as well?”

I close my eyes in thought, images of Remus and I making love in that bed fill the space behind my eyelids. I’m not sure I want to part with it. The book collector is coming to look at the books in the morning and I still have the watches to sell. With any luck, I’ll be able to come up with close to what I need and be able to keep the bed, the flat and the last remaining threads of my sanity. 

“No, the bed stays.”

“What about the box?” He greedily looks over my shoulder, peering into the bedroom, his eyes finding and locking onto the black and gold box containing all the glimpses of Remus’s life that I have been gifted.

“Absolutely not,” I say, extending my hand. “I’ll take forty-five for everything else, but the bed and the box stay.”

“Forty-five,” he agrees and almost looks pitying. “I’ll come by tomorrow with my crew and the money.”

“Thank you,” I say and usher him out the door. 

I check my watch. If I take the motorbike, I have just enough time to stop in and see Remus before I go to work. There’s a hollow feeling in my stomach that I’ve been fighting against since I left Grimmauld Place. Perhaps it’s my paranoia telling me needlessly that Greyback is keeping close to Remus, probably at my parents’ suggestion. 

Riding through the streets, my mind begins to clear and I gain a steady focus, like tunnel vision aimed in Remus’s direction. My arms and chest yearn to have him close. 

As I approach, my suspicions are confirmed. Greyback is standing in front of the wide windows of Hogsmeade Books & Bites, smoking a cigarette and looking as large and imposing as ever. I wonder how long he’s been standing out there. I wonder if he’s gone inside and threatened Remus. I wonder if Remus even knows why he is there. I doubt that he does.

I’m stepping off and swinging my leg over the bike when Greyback approaches me. His long sparse hair combed back and held in place with some cheap gel concoction. His face harsh and punctuated by an uneven five o’clock shadow. His eyes are dark and black and soulless. I hate this man, I always have.

“Sirius,” he says jovially. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Fancy my ass,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Fancy his ass actually,” he says, pointing his thumb over his shoulder in Remus’s general direction.

I want to vomit at the implications of his words and the image from my dreams that they drum up. “He’s not for you, Greyback.”

“The contract I have with your father says otherwise.”

“The contract you have with my father is going to mean fuck all by tomorrow.”

“Oh really? Imagine yourself a bit of a hero, Sirius?” He tosses his cigarette on the ground and stubs it out with the heel of his boot.

“Get out of here Greyback. Leave him alone.”

“Maybe,” he says, walking backward away from me, a sickening smile on his face. “See you around Sirius.”

“Fuck,” I say under my breath, my hands running through my hair, the moment he turns around. I catch a look at myself through the reflection of the window, I look an absolute mess. I grab an elastic off of my wrist and hastily use it to throw my hair into a knot on the back of my head. It helps, but only a little. My eyes are still tired and everything about me looks worn out. 

I push open the door and walk in, the calming smell of books and chocolate that I now associate with Remus washes over me. He’s standing behind the counter, a soft smile on his face, and I can breathe again.

“Sirius,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“I just wanted to stop by on my way to work,” I say approaching the counter, looking around and spotting only a handful of people seated throughout. “Grab a hot chocolate and maybe steal a kiss from you.”

“A hot chocolate and a kiss, huh?” He looks around quickly then leans over the counter, his hands held onto the edge. I meet him halfway and let our lips press softly. 

“How’s your day been?” I ask, relieved to be in his presence, but also still reeling from seeing Greyback outside.

“It’s been alright,” he says, stepping behind the espresso bar and beginning to steam the milk for my hot chocolate. “Busy. And that weird guy was back again, the one I told you about the other day. You might have seen him outside. He just left.”

I decide at that moment to take a chance. “Yeah, I saw him. I know him actually, he works for my father.”

“Interesting,” he says, looking a bit surprised, but not as surprised as I would have thought. 

“Interesting how?” I ask, completely nervous about what the implications of that single word could be. But the smile on his face is still soft and warm, whatever he finds interesting, must not sully his impression of me too much, if at all.

“Well, my father called today,” he begins to explain, the volume of the milk steamer increasing, almost drowning him out, he shuts it off and wipes it down. He brings the mug of melted dark chocolate swirled with spices and the pitcher of steamed milk to where I am standing at the counter. “I told him about you, and he made the connection that you might be the son of his boss. He told me to be careful with you.” Remus rolls his eyes at this. “But I told him you were fine, great really, and that you don’t have anything to do with your family.”

“If he works for my father, I can understand his hesitation.” 

Remus carefully finishes pouring the milk in the mug and creating the little leaf in the foam with a few quick flicks of his delicate wrist. He passes the mug to me. “Strange though, that that man has been hanging around. He sets my teeth on edge.”

“Mine too,” I say because it’s true. “He always has.”

“What does he do for your father? He doesn’t seem like the factory worker type.” 

“Henchman, I guess would be the best term.” I take a sip of my drink and groan slightly as the warm liquid coats my tongue. 

Remus gives me a little wink at my groan. “He’s definitely built for that kind of work. I wouldn’t want to owe him anything.”

My breath hitches and I almost choke on my hot chocolate at his words. I reach across the counter and press my palm to his cheek, my thumb dragging slightly across his upper lip as I pull him closer to me. My lips press against his again, and I silently promise to have this all taken care of before Greyback gets a chance to be near him again.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is more graphic violence at the end of this chapter. Nothing super explicit.

_“Sirius...help me,” Remus whispers, his body broken in so many ways, sprawled on the floor._

_“I don’t know how,” I cry, my hands hesitant to even touch him, afraid of hurting him more than he already is. “I’m so sorry Remus. I failed you.”_

_“Sirius...please,” he says and goes limp._

_I begin shaking him softly and repeating his name. “Remus...Remus…”_

“Remus!” I call out, abruptly waking myself from my sleep. I’m covered in sweat and tears are leaking from my eyes. My throat is dry and sore. I must have been screaming for quite some time. I can taste the bile from my stomach trying to creep up into my mouth. I swallow thickly, attempting to stave off the desire to vomit at waking from dreaming of Remus dying in my arms again. 

I hug my knees into my chest and for the first time in the months since the dreams of his death have been plaguing me, I let myself truly cry. I have a little more than twelve hours left to save him. The moon will rise full tonight and unless I can pull this off, he will be ripped from my life, with nothing but memories of the brief time I had with him and journals filled with segments of his life, along with vivid details of his death. 

Taking a steadying breath, I climb out of bed and throw on yesterday’s clothes, not caring that they smell of the bar, of my parents’ house and my own unwashed body. I have work to do and no time to worry about what I look and smell like. 

I grab the watches from where I stored them the other day. Selling these will be the last thing I do before going back to Grimmauld Place, carrying what I hope will total up to one hundred thousand pounds. Delivering what I hope will be the final installment in buying Remus his life and my freedom as well.

The antique dealer and his crew are knocking on my door as I finish the last dregs of my tea. Tea that I made strong and dark and overloaded in caffeine. It’s going to be a long day, I’ll need all the help I can get. 

I hustle about the flat, directing the antique dealer’s moving crew from one piece of furniture to the next. I watch them pack up my uncle’s belongings and life right in front of my eyes. If I was in any state to be sentimental, I’d have a harder time with this emptying of my flat, but as it stands, all I can think about is Remus. I’m doing all of this for him after all and the weight of the forty-five thousand pounds worth of banknotes in my hand that the antique dealer gives me removes some of the weight of Remus’s life from my shoulders. I’m a little less than halfway there, now with nine hours left to go.

“This is a remarkable collection of books that you have here, sir,” Madam Pince, the woman I had called in regards to purchasing the books, says to me. She has the first edition printing of _The Hound of the Baskervilles_ in her hand. She’s gently thumbing through the pages, holding the book carefully in her long nimble fingers. “It must have taken quite some time for your uncle to collect.”

“His whole life I would imagine,” I say with a sigh. I watch her as she picks up another book, the way she touches it, her thin fingers running along the binding, it’s the same way that Remus had held the books three days prior. 

“Are you sure you want to part with these?” she asks. “It’s quite the impressive library.”

I shrug. They’d never really meant anything to me. I’d hardly ever even stepped into this room. It wasn’t until Remus had mentioned that I could grab a fair price for them that I even gave them much thought. But that’s it, isn’t it? Remus knew what it was that I had. Remus, who relishes in books and stories and love-filled memories of his mom, had slowly and purposefully looked all of these over. Suddenly, it seems a shame to sell them. When I first called her, I thought it poetic that a collection of books could be used to save his life, now it seems wrong. Now, I want to be able to gift these to Remus upon saving him. I want to invite him into this space, give him this room and let him enjoy the collection for what it is. A room full of magic and wonder. The people who can buy these books will never appreciate them for what they are. Instead, they will always be sold and traded back and forth by people like my mother and father. People who look to consume instead of save, manipulate instead of love, kill instead of forgive.

I grab onto one of the books closest to me, an original printing of _Great Expectations_. An image of a young Remus sitting on the sofa with his mother, a distant memory from my dreams floats into my head. They read this book together and now, here Remus was in the present, running a bookshop and cafe in her honor. All of these books, something that my uncle loved, that Remus loves and that I know Hope Lupin would’ve marveled at, maybe I can keep them and save Remus regardless. 

With the forty-five thousand pounds tucked away in my bag, and the potential value of the watches, I calculate my bank balance and I make a perhaps wild decision. 

“No,” I say. “I’ve decided to keep them.”

“Wise choice, Mr. Black.” She steps over to me and extends her hand. “Thank you for letting me see your uncle’s collection. It truly is remarkable.”

I feel more confident in my decision at her words. So what if I have to use almost half of what is left in my bank account to save him. For what is money worth, if Remus is no longer living? 

The jeweler from the other day seems very eager to see me again when I enter his shop to sell the watches. He looks hungry when he sees me, and like with the antique dealer yesterday, I can tell that he realizes I am desperate. It is unlikely that I am going to get a fair price for the watches, but I don’t care. Anything at this point will help and I’ve already resolved that I don’t care if I go broke in the process.

When it’s all said and done, and the jeweler has looked the watches completely over, he only offers me fifteen thousand pounds. With that price, even if I would’ve sold the books, I’d still have had to dip heavily into my account. 

In my desperation for this all to be over, I shake his hand to seal the deal and he greedily grabs onto my left hand just as he lets go of my right. 

“I’ll give you another ten thousand for the ring on your finger,” he says, his eyes transfixed on the glittering black and white diamonds set in the gold band.

“No,” I say, hastily pulling my hand away from him.

“Take the offer now. My price will only go down each time that I see you.”

“You’re not going to see me again,” I assure. “Now give me the fifteen thousand and I’ll be getting out of here.”

The man shrugs and opens the safe behind the counter. He pulls out two bundles of bills, splitting one in half and handing them over. 

“See you soon, Mr. Black,” he says, a bit of a laugh in his voice. 

I want to scream at his laugh. It’s as if my family and this entire city are working against me. Against me and Remus. 

Looking up at the sky, for I no longer have a watch, the sun is already starting to sink lower behind the buildings. I’m running out of time and I still need to go to the bank to get the remaining forty thousand pounds that I need to pay off this debt.

My motorbike roars to life as I turn the key, the sound of it mirroring my anger at the situation that I find myself in. I shift it into gear and pull into traffic, weaving in and out of the cars and lorries that are trying to move through their days. I doubt any of them are in nearly the hurry that I am. It’s unlikely that anyone else is moving through London trying to save the love of their life from a horrible fate that has taken them in the same way for the past four lifetimes.

The lady behind the counter at the bank eyes me suspiciously when I ask to remove forty thousand pounds from my account, asking for it all in cash. I’m pretty sure the only reason why she gives it to me is because I’m a Black. It’s the only time this godforsaken name has come in handy and it’s only needed because I’m essentially being blackmailed by that same family.

She brings me the money in a private room and I ask her to leave. I pull the rest of the money out of my bag and double count it all. Sitting on the table in the room, one would expect one hundred thousand pounds to look larger than it does. Laid out in small stacks, it only takes up around a quarter of the table. I compile it all and secure it with several bands denoting the amount in each bundle, then place them all back into my bag. I throw the bag over my shoulder and run out of the bank, hop onto my motorbike and practically fly as fast as I can to Grimmauld Place, with the sun setting behind me.

“Master Sirius,” Kristoff says, opening the front door.

“Get out of my way, Kristoff,” I bark and push past the old butler. I run towards the library, my shoes clicking on the dark stained hardwood floor. 

The library’s french doors are shut when I reach them and I swing them both open with a loud bang, causing them to hit the shelves on their corresponding sides. With any luck, they’ve left a dent in the wood.

“Sirius! Contain yourself,” my mother scolds from her chaise.

I say nothing to her as I continue my quick strides to where my father is seated at his desk. I unlatch my bag and pour out the stacks of money, letting them fall haphazardly onto the desk over whatever it is that my father is working on.

“Take it! It’s all here!” I yell. “All one hundred thousand pounds of it.”

My father sits back and raises an eyebrow at me, his hands coming to steeple at this chest. “You’re sure this is how you want to play your cards?”

“Yes, I’m fucking sure! Stop playing games and call off your goddamn dogs.” I slam my hands onto the table and lean forward over the desk, moving closer into my father's space, crowding him and looming over him like he did to me when I was a child. 

He idly flips through the stacks of money, grabbing onto a bundle and flipping through the notes with his thumb. His face is passive, even a bit bored. After all, one hundred thousand pounds means hardly anything to him in the grand scheme of things. He stood to acquire more had I agreed to his proposal. He’s likely disappointed right now. Not that I care. Disappointing my family is a pastime that I am used to, and one I don’t care to ever rectify.

“Make the call,” I growl at him.

“I’m not sure what call you are referring to?”

“Greyback. I know he’s looming near him. The debt is paid. He owes you nothing. Make the call!” I shout the last part and look at my father sternly.

He reaches across the desk towards his phone and picks up the receiver placing it between his ear and his shoulder. His other hand begins to dial a number. He maintains eye contact with me the whole time. 

I hold my breath as I wait for him to begin speaking. Looking out the narrow windows that line the wall behind my mother’s chaise, I can see that the sun has gone completely away and that the moon is rising high in the sky to take its place. 

“It’s off. The debt has been paid,” I hear my father say into the phone before he hangs it up.

I let out the breath that I have been holding. I’ve done it, but just barely. I could cry. The clock on the wall hanging high behind my father's desk tells me that it’s just after seven. Hogsmeade Books & Bites has closed and Remus will be heading home soon. I should swing by his place and pick him up. Take him for a celebratory ride on the bike and then dinner, even though he will have no idea what it is that we are celebrating. He doesn’t need to know.

“You’re free to go Sirius, but if you should change your mind tomorrow, know that my offer still stands and you can have all of this back plus so much more.”

Taking a heavy sigh of relief, I run my hands through my hair and look at my father dead in the eye. “I’ve chosen him. I will never choose you.”

He nods his head, his lips pursed and he begins to stack the money in a more organized way, prepping it to fit into the safe he keeps tucked behind the family tapestry that hangs across the room between two floor-to-ceiling shelves worth of books.

With my head held high and my heart beating happily and wildly in my chest, I turn and leave the library, not once looking back in their direction.

Once outside, I look up at the moon. It’s bright and reflecting gold amongst the blackness of the sky. The stars are bright and white and I smile at the sight. The Seer was right, I didn’t fail him. 

This time when I turn the key on my motorbike, the engine purrs instead of roars. Even the bike has calmed down. I dreamily make my way through the streets and follow the familiar path that I have mapped to Remus’s flat. I’m giddy in anticipation of seeing Remus, of holding him, of kissing him, of confessing how I feel. That I love him. And I’ll be damned if anyone tells me that it’s too soon to express it. Love is a gift, and life, as it turns out, is fragile and occasionally hanging in the balance of someone else’s whims.

I drive past Hogsmeade Books & Bites on the off chance that Remus might still be there. The lights are off and everything about it looks pristine and undisturbed. Not that that was a worry, but I know that my father had Greyback stationed nearby, I wouldn’t put it past him to throw a brick through the window at the news he was no longer going to get his prize. 

That thought makes me nervous. Greyback has always been a bit unhinged and ruthless in his methods and it suddenly occurs to me that Remus may not be out of the woods yet. I twist the throttle on my motorbike and rapidly pick up speed, the engine vibrating between my legs. 

I round the final corner onto Remus’s street and his front door comes into view. I can see that it is broken off of its hinges, just like it always is in my dreams. 

I quickly stop the bike and cut the engine at the same time that I place the kickstand down with the heel of my boot. Jumping off in one swift motion, I run through the broken door and make my way up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I can hear things being thrown around in Remus’s apartment, there’s a heavy thump that sounds a bit like a body hitting the floor. My heart beats out of my chest and I push forward faster, bursting through his open apartment door and screaming his name. “Remus!”

He’s on the floor, looking dazed and it’s clear by the blood on the concrete pillar that he was recently thrown against it, confirming my fears that I thought I heard a body hit the floor. Greyback is looming over him. I run at him at full speed and with a burst of strength I didn’t know I had, I manage to shove him to the side. Not enough to hurt him, but enough to break him from the momentum of attacking Remus, his prey. 

He turns and looks at me and snarls, practically growling my name. “Sirius.”

“Get the fuck away from him, Greyback. The debt has been paid.”

“That means nothing to me, just like I told your father.”

I keep my eyes locked on Greyback’s, but I can see Remus off to the side trying to make sense of everything through what is sure to be a concussion from hitting the support beam. He looks as if he is moving slightly, reaching and I know not to look away. If I do, Greyback will remember that I am not who it was that he was after. 

“It’ll mean something to you if you want to keep your job,” I threaten.

“You have no power over me,” Greyback sneers. “I work for your father, not his disgraced heir.” 

He begins to turn away from me, and I can just see Remus silently placing a phone down. I can’t let him see what Remus has done. I charge Greyback again to keep his attention and he throws me to the ground, my breath leaving my body on impact. Greyback pulls his fist back in preparation to punch me. I close my eyes and brace myself for the impact. 

“No!” I hear Remus yell. His voice is loud and firm.

I open my eyes at the sound of his voice, just in time to see Greyback turn and punch him instead. The lights go out behind Remus’s eyes on impact and there’s the sound of sirens blaring upon approach. 

Greyback looks up at the sound of the sirens, a look of anger and disappointment on his face. He rushes out the door. I hear his heavy footfalls on the stairs as he makes his retreat out of self-preservation. 

I crawl towards Remus, my breaths short and labored trying to get my lungs working properly again. He’s limp but breathing. Blood is pouring out of a gash across the bridge of his nose. I place his head into my lap and lean over, kissing him on the forehead, just as a policeman and an EMT come running through the door.


	12. Chapter 12

“Remus,” I say while nudging the door to the study open with my shoulder. I’m carrying two mugs of tea in my hands as well as a blanket tucked at my side. It’s getting even colder outside with fall turning into winter and the window seat that Remus has taken residence in over the week that he has been living here has a bit of a draft. 

He looks over at me as I enter the room. He’s seated at the window like I knew he would be, not that he has much of a choice as the only furniture that is left in this place is the bed and his set of table and chairs from his place that I put in the kitchen so we would have a proper place to eat. His eyes are tired but he smiles softly at me, the bright early winter sun streaming in behind him and one of my journals in his hand. The black and gold gilded box is on the window seat beside him. 

I walk over to him and hand him a mug of tea, prepared just how he likes it. I haven’t attempted to make his hot chocolate yet. I’ll wait until he can properly teach me how. I place my mug of tea down and I drape the blanket I carried in over his shoulders. I secure it around him and lean forward, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. 

“Thanks,” he says, his shoulders relaxing a bit under the weight of the blanket. He takes a sip of tea and closes the journal, placing it into his lap. 

I sit beside him, on the other side of the box, and watch him intently. He shifts himself to face me better, and brings both of his hands to his mug, letting the warm porcelain heat his fingers. He looks at me, a genuine smile on his face. It warms my being way more than the tea in my hands ever could. 

“Thank you for this,” he says, holding my gaze. 

“It’s just tea, Remus,” I tease, trying to keep his mood light and the smile from disappearing from his face.

“It’s not just the tea, Sirius. It’s all of it. Selling your things. Dealing with your family. Listening to your dreams. Inviting me into your home, into your life. Saving me.” He looks down and runs one of his hands over the spines of the journals in the box. “It’s all been so separate and strange, and you looked at it from all angles. You made all the right plays for me, in so many ways. You did it all for me.”

“I’d do it a thousand times over,” I tell him because it’s true. Remus Lupin is worth everything to me. 

He lifts his gaze and his hand from the box and focuses on me again. The sun catches on a few of the black and white diamonds on the ring that is now holding residence on his left hand. It’s not there for engagement or anything as trite and predictable as that. It’s there because I placed it on him when they wheeled him away from me in the hospital. I wanted him to know that I was always going to be with him, that I was always going to love him and that no matter what happened from that moment on, I was his. When he came to the following day, he tried to return it to me, and I told him it was his now. He closed his eyes, nodded and never mentioned it again. I catch him spinning it with his thumb from time to time when he’s lost in thought. No doubt replaying the nightmare of that fateful evening over and over again in his head.

He stretches his legs a little straighter, bringing his stockinged feet to rest in my lap. I put my mug down and begin to rub at them, lovingly squeezing them, trying to warm them up, he’s been sitting here for quite some time.

“It’s getting late,” I say, my thumbs working the soft underside of his left foot. “Will you be okay while I grab the last of your things?”

He looks out the window and brings his tea to his lips and takes a sip. “I think I’d like to go with you.”

I stop my ministrations on his foot and hold it steady in my hands. “Are you sure? You don’t have to, there isn’t much left.”

“I know, but I feel like I need to. Just once.”

“Ok,” I say and begin kneading at his foot again.

“Can we stop by the cafe as well?” He asks, looking back at me and his eyebrows raised in what looks like hope. “I’d like to meet this Lily person that you trusted my cafe too.”

I smile at him and laugh lightly. “You’ll like her. James has sure taken a shine to her. He’s been at the cafe every day.”

Remus removes his feet from my hold and shifts himself to crawl towards me, the blanket still draped over his shoulders. He presses a kiss to my lips and lets it linger as he folds himself into my lap, kneeling with his legs around mine, his arms hanging over my shoulders like the blanket hangs over his. 

“I love you,” he says, the words ghosting over my lips with his breath.

I grab him firmer with my arms around his waist. “I love you too. So much.”

We stay like that together, losing all track of time. Not that it matters. After saving Remus, everything has slowed down. My days no longer rush by in a blur, one disappearing into the next. Just being here with Remus, for Remus, for me, it’s been more valuable than the flats worth of possessions that I gave up for him. 

After stopping by the cafe, and letting Remus meet Lily, whom he adored and approved of, especially after tasting the hot chocolate she made for him. It was perfect, Lyall had taught her how to make it before he returned to Wales to begin packing up his own home. He’ll be back in the coming weeks to get settled in London and start working alongside Remus and now Lily as well at the cafe. It’s a much better place for him than attempting to go back to work for my father. The fewer ties any of us have to my family, the better.

Remus and I walk from the cafe to his flat, both bundled in our winter coats, a hat on my head, a scarf around his neck, to-go cups of hot chocolate in our hands.

“We should stop by the Seer,” I suggest. “I think that she would like to see that I succeeded.”

“Alright,” he agrees, grabbing onto my free hand with his. 

Walking hand in hand, I feel completely content as we turn the corner to cut through the alley, the Seer will be at the end. 

“She’s just up here,” I say and begin to walk a little faster. When we reach her shop, her sign is gone, and everything is dark inside the window. “That’s strange. She should be here.”

Remus pulls at the handle and the door opens, a cloud of dust blowing past us as he does. We step inside, the place is completely empty aside from the dust. And from the way that it has collected, I can tell it’s not new. This storefront has been abandoned for quite some time.

“Are you sure this is the place,” Remus asks.

“I’m positive,” I say, my voice wavering slightly.

“She appears to be gone.”

“But she was here. I know she was. I talked to her, she told me my dreams were real, that you were real.” I can feel my eyes begin to well up in either frustration or confusion. Maybe it’s both.

“I’m not doubting that she was here, Sirius.” Remus moves closer to me, his eyes wide and full of understanding. “All of this, the dreams, your family, my father, it all worked together, bringing us to where we are. She must have been a part of that. And now that you’ve succeeded, she’s no longer needed.”

“But how? She was here?”

“Sirius, do you mean to tell me that you can believe in prophetic dreams, past lives and fate, but it’s too much to think that the Seer only appeared when you needed her?”

I laugh lightly and pull him into me, his words so similar to ones she had spoken to me when I doubted her as well. I guess it really was all meant to be, and if that’s true, and everything she said was real, well I get to belong to Remus for this life and all the rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments and kudos are appreciated! And come find me on tumblr @kattlupin 💛


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